


Reunion

by Polywantsanother



Category: Vikings (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polywantsanother/pseuds/Polywantsanother
Summary: "You cannot leave me."Athelstan is followed, even after the end.





	Reunion

Peering hard at the parchment in front of him, Athelstan made slow and precise strokes, hearing the quill scrap across the surface. Still, the ink flowed neatly and the small letter stood as clear as a carving. 

Although his eyes felt no strain, he still rubbed them with the back of his hand. He leaned away from the large slanted desk and eyed the page he was working on. The project was illuminating a chapter from Acts where Saint Paul was bitten by a viper but did not succumb to the wound. Currently, he was transcribing the passage, though on the borders he had already sketched the figure of the shipwrecked saint, so far from home, as well as the shape of the viper. 

Setting the quill down, Athelstan looked about the scriptorium. The other brothers and the occasional scholar were hunched over their own desks, working on their own chapters. The room as dry and warm, and only a few of the people in the room were wearing the traditional brown robes he was used to.

Athelstan himself had not donned his robe.

As if noting his own difference, he scratched at the beard he had not shaved and looked back down at the page. Lowering his hand, it hovered over his chest, wear the gold cross had not laid for a long time. Still, his hand sought it out, to hold it as one would the head of a cane. It was a thing to rely on, to bear his weight. 

But the cross was gone. 

Instead, he rested his hand and looked at his ink stained fingers.

It was quiet in the scriptorium, as it was supposed to be, and here he didn’t mind the silence. Out in the rest of the building, he was dying of thirst for a good conversation. There were some who were always ready for an ecclesiastical debate, especially the newer inhabitants of the building. Sometimes it seemed to Athelstan that they weren’t even reading the same holy book. 

“Athelstan.” A hushed voice called out from the doorway and Athelstan turned. A scholar, wearing an odd sort of open robe over pants and a shirt, stood and beckoned to him. With a small sigh, Athelstan rose from his stool and walked over.

“You have a visitor.” The man said. Athelstan frowned in confusion. If someone wanted to find him, they would usually head to this room.

“Where?” He asked.

“The courtyard. He will not enter the building.” The other man replied and Athelstan nodded. He clapped the man’s shoulder as he passed by, striding quickly through the halls.

Monks, priests, scholars, and students littered the hallways. Most of them that were conversing spoke in friendly terms but every so often, Athelstan would pass by a pair or group in heated debate.

Finally making it outside, Athelstan was momentarily blinded by the sunlight. He paused and held up a hand to shade his eyes, letting them get used to the change in light. 

“Priest.” Athelstan lowered his hand and his eyes watered. The figure in front of him was blurred and he rubbed at his face.

The figure did not change.

“Ragnar?” Athelstan’s voice came out as a breath. He laughed, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Ragnar!” He rushed forward and the two men embraced, each landing heavy thumps on each other’s back. After a moment, Ragnar held Athelstan out at arm’s length and looked at him.

“It is good to see you again Priest.” He said. For a time, Athelstan could not speak as his throat was choked with tears.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked and Ragnar flashed his impish smile.

“I was baptized!” He answered and threw his arms out wide. Athelstan stood, blinking, uncomprehending.

“But your gods.” Athelstan said.

“They would not let me see you, nor yours had I not.” Ragnar retorted and lowered his arms. He then scratched his neck idly. “Not that yours wants me here for much longer.” 

“Why?” Athelstan asked and Ragnar shrugged.

“We have much still to talk about.” He said. Athelstan laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You won’t believe it Ragnar. Did you know that the church fractured and there a churches that don’t even believe in transubstantiation?” Ragnar pulled his face into mild confusion.

“I do not know what that is. What I am concerned about,” He said. “Is that there are actors pretending to be my gods.” 

“The English have named days of the week after them.” Athelstan added and shook his head. “Tyr’s day, Odin’s day, Thor’s day, and Freya’s day.” 

“How many are named after your god?” Ragnar asked, his smug smile proving he already knew.

“It is good to see you my friend.” Athelstan said. Ragnar moved to him and threw his arm around Athelstan’s neck.

“I have missed you.” He agreed. “Let us go and talk about other things.”


End file.
